


Honey, we should run away

by allyasavedtheday



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, kind of lol, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/pseuds/allyasavedtheday
Summary: “We’re moving on soon,” his mom says casually as she’s plating up their food. As if it’s an inconsequential detail and not something that rocks Neil to his core.“Why?” he asks, keeping his voice calm and measured like she taught him to do if he was ever taken.“We’ve been here too long,” she says like it’s obvious, setting down a plate of pasta in front of him.“It’s only been ten weeks,” he can’t help pointing out. Ten weeks with Andrew. Ten weeks that aren’t enough.“That’s over two months,” she retorts, neatly spearing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Two more weeks and we’re leaving. Just as soon as I have everything organised.”*Andrew and Neil meet when Neil is on the run with his mother.





	Honey, we should run away

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay, it's been a _hot minute_ since I wrote an andreil fic so please be gentle lmao. I've had this fic planned for almost two years ever since I was listening to Run by Daughter and had a sudden epiphany that it could make for a perfect andreil au. (shoutout to [tina](http://happyminyards.tumblr.com/) for literally scrolling back through a year and a half's worth of conversations to find the messages we sent each other about it, ur the real mvp)
> 
> So a little bit of explanation: This takes place when Andrew is living in Columbia with Aaron and Tilda, after Drake and juvie but before Nicky and Andrew going onto his meds. (Let me tell you, this made it so confusing to figure out how to write andrew but u know) With the exception of them obviously meeting a few years early and Neil and his mom staying in Columbia, everything else about their backstories is pretty much canon compliant. (But I haven't reread in a while so some minor details may be mixed up so employ your sense of disbelief in those cases lmao). 
> 
> Warnings: Like the books, their are mentions of Andrew's past abuse and allusions to the abuse Neil and Aaron have suffered but nothing is incredibly detailed. Still, take care of yourselves, friends <3
> 
> Title: To Be Alone - Hozier  
> All of these characters are property of Nora Sakvic
> 
> Finally, enjoy <3

Neil closes his eyes, feeling some approximation of content as the warm breeze skims over his skin. The distinct click of a lighter to his right catches his attention and a moment later he’s opening his mouth, taking a drag of the proffered cigarette to keep it lit. It’s taken away from him in the next half a second and he lets the smoke billow from his mouth on a lazy exhale.

He cracks open one eye, glancing up at Andrew sitting beside him, one hand braced on the ground beneath him, the other raised to bring the same cigarette to his own mouth.

“How long before you have to go home?” Andrew asks after Neil has counted three distinct exhales.

“What time is it?” he asks instead, feeling far too comfortable on the hard concrete of the roof to have any interest in moving right now.

“5:35,” Andrew answers and Neil grimaces. If he isn’t home by six, his mother will have his head. He reluctantly sits up, propping his elbows up on his knees and meeting Andrew’s gaze.

“I should probably go.”

Andrew looks mildly annoyed in the same way he always does when one of Neil’s mother’s seemingly odd rules is brought up but he dutifully stubs out his cigarette and stands up. They walk to the fire escape in silence but just as Neil is about to climb onto the ladder Andrew twists his fingers in his t-shirt.

Neil grins, turning to look back at Andrew.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asks, leaning close like he’s already anticipating what Neil’s answer will be.

“Yeah,” Neil replies with a nod and a grin that feels dangerously close to giddy.

Andrew draws him in, sliding their lips together with a kiss that’s simultaneously biting and soft. Neil’s lost count of how many times this has happened by now but it still manages to make his legs unsteady.

“I’ll see you at school,” Neil tells him, silently thrilled when he feels Andrew shiver as their lips bump.

Andrew leans back then, regarding him with a cool look before gently cuffing Neil’s ear. “Get out of here.”

Neil bites back a smile and begins his descent.

*

Neil’s good mood dissipates the minute he steps through the front door of the apartment he and his mom having been staying in for the past ten weeks.

“Where were you?” she asks sharply, sparing him a severe look before she returns to whatever she’s cooking at the stove.

“With a friend,” Neil responds, fighting hard to keep the petulance out of his voice. “I should have those, mom. To keep up the normal sixteen-year-old façade, remember?”

“Nathaniel,” she warns and Neil’s expression sours. She’s not supposed to call him that anymore, not only because they can’t afford to slip up in front of other people but also because he hates it and she knows that.

“Sorry,” he mutters, more to keep the peace than because he means it. He drops down onto one of the stools at the kitchen island and resigns himself to watching her cook. Sometimes, in moments like this, he tries to imagine what it’d be like to be normal. For this to be a regular Wednesday, for his mom to just be a single mom, griping at him about grades and cooking him dinner after getting home from work.

Normalcy has never felt so enticing and so foreign at the same time.

He tells himself his life stopped being normal when he and his mom first left but the truth is, whatever his life was before that wasn’t normal either. None of it even feels real.

Neil wants his life to feel real. Just once.

“We’re moving on soon,” his mom says casually as she’s plating up their food. As if it’s an inconsequential detail and not something that rocks Neil to his core.

“Why?” he asks, keeping his voice calm and measured like she taught him to do if he was ever taken.

“We’ve been here too long,” she says like it’s obvious, setting down a plate of pasta in front of him.

“It’s only been ten weeks,” he can’t help pointing out. Ten weeks with Andrew. Ten weeks that aren’t enough.

“That’s over two months,” she retorts, neatly spearing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Two more weeks and we’re leaving. Just as soon as I have everything organised.”

Her words leave no room for argument but Neil feels like fighting anyway. He doesn’t because he knows better but he still can’t find it in himself to talk to her for the rest of the meal.

He knows it’s stupid. He knows he shouldn’t be going against his mother – the one person who’s fought tooth and nail to keep him alive for the past sixteen years – for a boy he’s only known for two months. But- Andrew makes him feel _alive_ , more so than he can ever remember.

It hasn’t been that long, ten weeks since he met Andrew behind the school bleachers in an exy uniform with a lit cigarette in hand. (Neil doesn’t know what his type would be but he’s guessing it’s probably that.) Andrew hadn’t liked him or trusted him at first but they seemed to constantly find each other when seeking moments of solitude until they learned to enjoy the silence together.

It took three weeks for whatever it is they are to kick-start.

Neil thinks Andrew intended to use him as first – as an experiment or a way to get rid of his sexual frustration, Neil’s not entirely sure. But Andrew kept coming back and Neil inexplicably kept wanting him to come back.

And now they’re…well, Neil doesn’t really know what they are.

But he knows he’s never felt this before.

It’s precarious and a bit dented because Andrew’s got trust issues a mile long and Neil’s hiding his entire identity from Andrew but when they’re up on the roof of Andrew’s apartment building, nothing else seems to matter.

Neil shouldn’t want to give up everything for a chance. And he doesn’t plan to.

But god, he wants to hang onto his chance for a little while longer.

*

Andrew is waiting for him behind the school at lunch the next day. He doesn’t quite smile when he sees Neil but there’s a lightness in his expression that Neil doesn’t think anyone notices but him.

“Hey,” he says when he’s close enough, letting Andrew tug on his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

Andrew’s touch puts him at ease like it always does but part of Neil is on edge, suddenly reminded of what his mother revealed last night. He doesn’t know if he should tell him or not.

Andrew must notice his hesitance because he pulls back, narrowing his eyes as he takes in Neil’s expression. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Neil says but he can tell Andrew isn’t convinced.

“Don’t lie to me,” Andrew says, an edge to his voice that Neil only hears when Andrew talks about his family. “What happened?”

Neil flounders, grasping for something pacifying to say and settling for an uncomfortable shrug and muttering, “Just stuff with my mom.”

Andrew’s expression clears, leaving behind unmistakable traces of ire. “Was she angry at you for coming home late last night?”

Neil knows where that anger comes from. He knows about Andrew’s distaste for his own mother and the way she used to treat Aaron before Andrew showed up. Neil doesn’t know how to tell him that that anger is misplaced when his own family situation must seem far too similar to Andrew’s twin’s on the surface.

“It’s fine,” Neil insists, hesitantly lifting a hand to touch Andrew’s cheek. “I’m fine.”

Andrew continues to stare at him like he’s trying to decide whether or not to let it go, but he eventually releases his grip on Neil’s t-shirt and starts walking towards the bleachers.

“Can we play exy after school?” Neil asks, hurrying up to fall into step beside him again.

Andrew casts him a sidelong glance. “You want me to play that godforsaken sport on the one day I don’t have practice?”

“You could see how long it takes me to score a goal on you?” Neil offers, hoping to appeal to Andrew’s latent – though probably non-existent – competitive streak.

“You’d blow out your arms before you’d win and I have a use for those.”

Neil smirks to himself, standing a touch too close to Andrew where he props himself against a pole to take out his cigarettes. “Stop me before it gets to that point then.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows but other than that his expression remains neutral.

“Fine,” he says eventually. “For twenty minutes.”

“I’ll take it,” Neil grins.

*

Neil drops his appropriated exy racquet with a triumphant breath, grinning at an unimpressed Andrew who lobs the ball he just failed to catch at Neil’s head.

“You’re getting rusty!” Neil calls, feeling a laugh bubble to the surface when Andrew takes off his helmet just for the purpose of rolling his eyes at him.

“I just wanted to stop playing,” he replies, unfazed.

And while Neil is partly inclined to believe him, he’d also like to think that it’s something to do with his own hidden abilities. He hasn’t played exy properly since he was in the little leagues as a kid but he still loves the game, still considers the racquet an extension of his own arm when he gets the chance to hold it.

He hasn’t joined the school team because his mother would kill him and because there’s no point when he won’t be sticking around for long but sometimes Andrew tolerates these mini games and it reminds Neil of the thrill he used to feel on the court.

Andrew’s standing in front of him now, having moved from his spot in goal and eyeing Neil with something akin to curiosity. “Remind me again why you don’t play when you’re so obsessed?”

“Remind me again why you _do_ play when you hate it?” Neil counters, mostly because he knows it’s the quickest way to end the conversation. He’s asked the question before. Andrew as an exy player completely mystifies him. He’s watched Andrew’s practices since he first arrived here and he can see his strength, his skill, but he’s also never seen Andrew look anything other than bored and despondent in goal. Andrew told him he started playing in juvie but he’s never explained why he’s still playing now.

As expected, Andrew doesn’t respond, just elbows Neil’s side and starts walking off the court. Neil follows, quickly falling into step with him once again.

“Are we going to your place?” Neil asks as Andrew stuffs their exy racquets back in the supply closet in the gym.

Andrew casts him a glance over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. “Unless your mother is suddenly okay with you having a boy in your room…?”

Neil sighs. It’s probably easier to let Andrew think his mom’s homophobic and move on. He’s still trying his best to lie to Andrew as little as possible. This thing between them is a house of cards waiting to fall but Neil has an inexplicable need to keep trying anyway. “It’s not because you’re a boy,” he says, not for the first time. “She’d freak if she found anyone in my room. She’s protective over that kind of thing.”

“Protective is one word,” Andrew remarks and Neil decides to let it go. If they keep going Andrew’s only going to get riled up and they’ll get into a fight that Neil has no hope of winning if he wants to keep all of his lies intact.

Andrew huffs then, snapping Neil out of his thoughts. “Let’s go.”

*

Neil really likes Andrew’s roof. He likes the seclusion of it.

He’s pretty sure that’s why Andrew likes it too.

They meet Aaron outside the apartment building on their way up there today and Neil tries not to let his hackles rise. Aaron doesn’t like him. It’s abundantly clear Aaron doesn’t like him. He’s just still trying to figure out the precise reason why that is. However it’s times like this, when Andrew completely blanks Aaron as they pass him, ignoring Aaron’s twisted scowl, that Neil thinks he might know why.

Andrew’s disinterested in everything, even his own brother that he’s apparently only known about for a very short period of time. If Neil were a betting man he’d wager Aaron doesn’t like the fact he’s managed to hold Andrew’s interest for so long.

(And if Aaron were smart, he’d realise every clenched fist and silent snarl Andrew sends in his mother’s direction is because of him.)

Andrew heads right for the edge when they reach the roof but Neil’s used to it now, taking a seat a few inches away. Close enough to catch the faint smell of smoke from Andrew’s cigarette and close enough to feel the phantom buzz of Andrew’s touch.

Andrew’s halfway through his cigarette when he speaks. “Truth for a truth,” he says.

“Hmm?” Neil turns his head to look at him but Andrew’s still staring out over the town. A few seconds later he meets Neil’s gaze.

“Tell me something true and I’ll do the same.”

“Why?” Neil can’t help asking. This is shaky ground for them. This thing between them works only because they’re willing to ignore all the huge chunks of one another’s lives they refuse to share. Neil doesn’t even know what truth he could give him.

“Because you’ve lied to me twice today and I need a reason not to push you off this roof.”

Neil huffs a laugh and it probably says a lot about his self-preservation instinct when it comes to Andrew. Ultimately, he decides to go with something relatively safe that’ll still be enough to earn another inch of Andrew’s trust.

“I don’t play exy because my mom doesn’t like it. My dad is the one who got me to join when I was a kid so the thought of me playing just reminds her of him,” he explains, which is essentially the truth. “And she doesn’t like anything that reminds her of him.”

Andrew takes a drag of his cigarette, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he replies, “Your dad must’ve been a real dick.”

“Something like that,” Neil scoffs. Silence falls between them and he lets it settle for a moment before glancing at Andrew. “Your turn.”

Andrew doesn’t answer right away but Neil is happy to let him take his time deciding what to say. “Playing exy keeps Aaron out of the house. If I’m there I can make sure he stays out of the house.”

Neil absorbs that, thinking back to their moment with Aaron earlier. “Does he know how much you’re trying to protect him?”

“I’m not protecting him,” Andrew mutters as he lights another cigarette.

Neil decides to let it slide. They’re not built for much more than a few minutes of raw honesty and he thinks they’ve just about reached their quota for the day.

Instead, he leans back on his hands and watches Andrew smoke, letting the cool breeze quiet his mind and giving into the smile that curls the corners of his mouth when Andrew flicks his cigarette butt away a few minutes later and asks, “Yes or no?”

Kissing is something he stopped thinking about almost as quickly as he started thinking about it in the first place. His mother had beaten the idea of it out of him long before they ever turned up in Columbia. But kissing Andrew, it sets an electric current running under his skin.

Even before his mother intervened, he can’t remember feeling like that when he kissed anyone else. Andrew’s hands in his hair, Andrew’s mouth kissing his own numb, all of it is addictive. He still doesn’t understand it entirely but he’s happy to take whatever Andrew will give him.

Neil’s phone ringing incessantly is what breaks them up eventually and he frowns at the missed messages from his mom. He should be home by now. She’s going to be _pissed_.

“I should go,” he says regretfully, pocketing his phone and raising his gaze to Andrew.

Andrew looks between Neil’s phone now hidden away in his pocket and Neil’s face before his mouth twists. He leans in and kisses Neil then, one last time, and when he pulls back again his face is a mask of careful neutrality.

Neil wishes he could tell him he’ll stay.

*

His mom gives him hell when he gets home for being late again but he expects it. He’s not sure why her speech about jeopardising their cover doesn’t resonate with him the way it normally it does. Maybe he’s too complacent here. There haven’t been any rumblings from his father or his henchmen since they left Ohio and he feels a little too comfortable here with the life they’ve set up.

For once he feels some modicum of safe.

Or maybe not safe but- happy.

Still, he takes tirade and the smack that accompanies it and goes straight to bed.

Lying on the lumpy mattress, he turns his phone over and over in his hand. It’s a burner and the only number in it is his mother’s – his Uncle Stuart’s is still tucked away safely in his binder. There’s a text message though, one Andrew sent to himself after stealing Neil’s phone one afternoon as they lazed about on the roof.

Andrew had explained his actions with a gruff, “You’re terrible at remembering plans,” and Neil hadn’t pointed out that they never make plans in advance in the first place.

He liked the idea that Andrew has his number. It made him feel like he wasn’t so cut off anymore.

Neil doesn’t actually save Andrew’s number to his contacts because he doesn’t want his mom to see it but after a moment’s deliberation he opens the message chat again, fingers hovering over the keys before he writes something.

 **Neil:** We need to start setting a timer when we’re on the roof

Andrew replies almost instantly and Neil finds himself biting back a grin.

 **Andrew:** you would’ve ignored it anyway

 **Neil:** probably

 **Andrew:** Go to sleep, idiot

Neil smiles to himself, sending off one last text and locking his phone.

 **Neil:** Good night.

*

For the next week, things are quiet and Neil almost manages to ignore the impending signs that his mother will be moving them on soon. There’s a fresh box of hair dye on the counter when he comes home from school on Monday. More and more of their scant belongings start disappearing into bags every day and he knows his mom spends all day Tuesday arranging the pickup of their new IDs.

Even still, he compartmentalises, spending as much time as he possibly can getting lost in Andrew and trying to avoid the narrowed-eyed looks Andrew continues to give him as the days wear on.

It’s on a Thursday when it all goes to hell.

His mother insists he come home straight after school and Andrew walks with him. Andrew knows better than to walk him right up to the apartment building so they stop around the corner. “Pretty soon, she won’t even let you come to school at all,” Andrew comments, leaning against the wall and squinting up at Neil.

Neil rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “I told you, my uncle’s coming to visit. I haven’t seen him in a while; she just wants me to spend some time with him.”

Andrew doesn’t look convinced and it’s not an easy lie to say but it’s the best he can do. Thankfully, Andrew doesn’t push, instead bunching his fingers in the front of Neil’s shirt and pulling him in. Their lips have barely touched when Neil hears a familiar voice from down the street.

“Neil!”

Neil freezes and it makes Andrew pull back instantly, checking Neil’s expression before glancing over his shoulder at Neil’s mother.

“Neil, home. Now,” his mother orders and he knows that tone. This isn’t a time to push his luck.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmurs, slowly stepping out of Andrew’s grip and turning around.

He meets his mother’s gaze and he knows, with no uncertain clarity, he’ll be lucky if he ever sees Andrew again.

*

Later, long after a dinner that Neil didn’t eat and the sting on his cheek has settled to a dull throb, he sneaks out of the apartment while his mother’s in the shower, hood up to conceal the bruises quickly blooming on his face. It’s suicidal leaving now. Especially knowing how furious his mom likely still is. But he just wants to see Andrew.

Andrew’s apartment is only on the third floor and Neil’s used to the fire escape enough by now to climb up easily. When he reaches Andrew’s window he peers inside the half-drawn drapes. Aaron’s in the bedroom too but Neil doesn’t have time to worry about what he thinks. He raps on the window, watching as Andrew shoots up from where he’d been sprawled out on his bed.

His expression turns to fire when he takes in Neil’s face.

Andrew doesn’t say anything when he opens the window to let him climb through, just grabs Neil’s sleeve as soon as he’s upright and drags him out of the room, uttering a, “Not now,” in Aaron’s direction when he calls after them.

Andrew pulls him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them and rounding on Neil in an instant.

“Andrew, I’m fine-“

“ _Don’t_ ,” Andrew warns sharply, pointing at the rim of the bathtub and gesturing for Neil to sit down. Neil obliges with a quiet sigh.

“Stay there,” Andrew orders before slipping out of the room. He’s hardly gone thirty seconds before he’s back again with a handful of ice that he immediately dumps into a washcloth sitting on the sink. He bundles it up in the cloth before moving to stand in front of Neil. And then, far more gently than Neil expects, Andrew presses the cloth to the bruise on his cheek.

Neil flinches, more at the cold than anything else, but it still makes Andrew’s mouth set in a firm line.

“Did she do this to you?” he asks, and Neil knows the calm in his voice is deceptive. He can tell Andrew’s trying not lose it.

“Yes,” Neil admits. Because there’s no point in lying right now.

Andrew’s other hand clenches on his shoulder but other than that he doesn’t react.

“She’s just trying to protect me,” Neil says and he realises instantly it’s the wrong thing to say.

Andrew’s eyes blaze. “That’s not how you protect your child.”

Neil huffs, scrambling for the right words to explain properly. “It’s- it’s complicated. She doesn’t like me spending time with people she doesn’t know. She’s just trying to keep me safe, I-“

“Who’s she trying to keep you safe from, Neil?” Andrew demands. “Because it sounds to me like the only person you need to be protected from is her-“

“My father!” Neil bursts out, heaving a harsh breath as Andrew goes still in front of him. “He’s- he’s not a good person.”

Neil slowly pushes Andrew’s hand away, keeping his eyes downcast as his fingers catch on the hem of his hoodie. For all the kisses they’ve shared, Andrew has never seen him shirtless. He knows he’s probably felt the scars through his shirt or when his hands have wandered beneath the material but he’s never asked.

Neil thinks right now it’s the only thing he can do to make him understand.

He shrugs off his hoodie, careful as he lifts it over his head, and drops it to the floor. He doesn’t want to meet Andrew’s gaze but he forces himself to, watching as Andrew’s eyes slip to his marred torso.

“We ran away when I was ten,” he explains hollowly. “We’ve been running ever since. She’s just trying to make sure we survive.”

Andrew takes a measured breath, eyes on the bullet wound scar on his chest. And then, very slowly, he kneels down until he’s eye level with Neil. He places his hands on Neil’s shoulders, fingers dipping into the divots of the iron scar on his left shoulder.

“She’s not protecting you from your abuser if she’s abusing you too.”

Neil considers arguing, reiterating that Andrew doesn’t understand, but he’s tired and he didn’t come here for a fight. So he gently wraps his fingers around Andrew’s wrists and leans forward until their foreheads touch and their noses bump before closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

“I’m okay,” he whispers and he feels Andrew release an unsteady breath in the space between their mouths.

“You’re not going back there tonight,” Andrew says and Neil leans back.

“I have to,” he says. “She’ll get worried if I don’t. I just wanted to see you.”

Something flickers across Andrew’s expression but Neil can’t figure out what it means. He doesn’t have to think about it for very long before Andrew is carefully kissing the corner of his mouth and releasing him.

They stay there unmoving for a minute and Neil thinks they’re both probably doing the same thing – acclimating to the fact that something in their carefully constructed dynamic has just shifted.

After that Andrew leads him to the door, through the apartment building this time. It’s as they’re standing on either side of the threshold that Neil remembers his mother wants them to leave next week – and after what happened today there’s no way they won’t. He contemplates telling Andrew right now but he doesn’t think he can deal with another heavy conversation. So he resolves to tell him tomorrow.

Behind the bleachers at school.

Probably the only place they’ll get to be alone for the next week.

For now, he kisses Andrew one last time and makes his way home.

He’ll tell him tomorrow.

*

When he gets home his mother is waiting for him at the kitchen island. She doesn’t yell this time, just pushes a glass of water and two painkillers in his direction.

He takes them for the peace offering that they are, swallowing the pills and draining the water before putting the glass upside down in the sink. “I’m sorry I left again. I had to end things with Andrew,” he lies. He doesn’t really care if his mother believes him or not anymore.

“It’s for your own good, Abram,” she says and the name makes him pause.

Sometimes he thinks his mother calling him Abram is the closest thing to affection she’s shown him in years. It’s her way of pacifying him.

He appraises her, nodding slowly. “I’m going to bed.”

She acquiesces, giving him a nod of her own. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

It’s their own version of a ceasefire.

*

Neil wakes up in the morning and realises almost instantly he’s not in his bed.

The scratchy material under his cheek and the faint vibration beneath him makes his eyes shoot open and he takes stock of himself. Sitting up, he realises he’s in the backseat of his mother’s car.

She’s in the driver’s seat and she meets his gaze in the rearview mirror as soon as he’s upright.

“It’s for your own good,” she tells him. The same thing she told him last night.

Neil stares out the window and, with a sinking feeling like a lead weight in his chest, discovers they’re already on the interstate. He screws his eyes shut, trying to figure out how he didn’t wake up.

Then he remembers it.

The water.

She must’ve slipped him something last night.

The betrayal he feels makes bile rise in his throat but he doesn’t say anything, just buckles his belt properly and lets his head fall against the headrest behind him.

There’s no point in fighting.

She’s won.

And the traitorous, rational part of his head whispers to him that she’s right. It’s not safe for them to stay in one place for too long anyway.

He stares out the window and tries to make himself let go. In a few hours, Neil Josten will be nothing but a memory.

Hopefully he’ll be one that Andrew remembers though.

* * *

It doesn’t take Andrew long to figure out what happens.

Neil doesn’t turn up for school the next day and Andrew sends him exactly one text.

_Where are you_

When he gets no reply he goes to Neil’s apartment after school, his mother’s stupid fucking rules be damned.

He knocks on the door only for Neil’s next door neighbour to poke her head out of her own apartment to inform him that the tenants upped and left out of nowhere last night. It’s at that moment he tells himself to let Neil Josten go.

He was nothing more than a fantasy. A distraction. For Andrew to feel mildly interested in for a couple of weeks. Nothing else.

Certainly nothing important.

He lets weeks pass and then months and not once does he open Neil’s contact number.

He focuses on Aaron instead, checks him over for the bruises he tries to conceal, counts the amount of pills that are in the bathroom in the morning and then again in the evening to see how much he’s taking.

One day he gets into a car with Tilda and he’s the only one to step back out again.

It feels something like satisfaction.

A funeral happens and with it comes cousin Nicky from Germany. Andrew doesn’t make much of him but Aaron hugs him like he means something so he’s marginally preferable to living under the same roof as Luther and Maria.

For the umpteenth time, Andrew packs his life up into boxes and says goodbye to a home that never felt like a home.

At least he’s moving into a room with a lock on the door this time.

It’s as he’s lying on his bed, in his shiny new room with an open suitcase on his floor, that Neil suddenly comes to mind again. It’s coming up to four months since he left now.

He turns his phone over and over in his hand for a solid two minutes before he decides to unlock it.

It doesn’t take long to scroll back to his and Neil’s chat; Andrew doesn’t text many people.

Before he can think better of it, he sends Neil his new address.

He locks his phone and tosses it onto the carpet then, closing his eyes and neatly locking all thoughts of Neil back up in the deepest recesses of his mind.

*

Andrew is sitting in the living room, sheltered from the blistering July heat outside. Nicky is in the back yard sunning himself and the last time he’d checked Aaron was holed up in the one patch of shade with his face in a book.

Andrew prefers the superficial cool air of the air con, prefers sprawling out on the couch than the grass, as he idly flicks through the TV channels waiting for something to pique his interest.

A knock on the door interrupts his calm and the corners of his mouth turn down. It’s probably one of Nicky’s friends – ergo, Nicky’s problem.

However the knocking persists and, with a spark of irritation, Andrew realises neither Nicky nor Aaron can probably hear the door from where they are. Andrew heaves himself up, fully intent on opening the door for the sole purpose of telling whoever it is to fuck off.

He shuffles out to the hallway, letting out a huff when the knocking becomes frantic and swings the door open.

All sharp words die in his throat when he realises who it is.

Neil.

Neil stands in front of him. Dirty and sweaty and battered and bruised. With clothes shabbier than before and hair matted to his head.

His eyes are the wrong colour – _contacts_ , Andrew’s mind supplies – but they’re filled with so much emotion it almost makes Andrew’s knees buckle.

“Andrew,” he croaks, voice cracking painfully like he hasn’t spoken in too long. He drops the duffle bag in his hand and Andrew is absently aware of the dull thud it makes as it hits the ground.

Neil heaves a breath before taking one definitive step forward and then he’s collapsing into Andrew’s arms.

The sob that rips out of him sounds like it tears through Neil’s very core and despite all his instincts telling him not to, despite the fury that wants to erupt inside him, Andrew lets his arms come up around Neil.

Neil appears to give up in that moment, his entire form shaking as he clings to Andrew, mumbling out nonsensical, “I’m sorry”s and a horrifying, “She’s dead. He killed her.”

It’s that, more than anything else, that makes Andrew want to hold him a little tighter.

Neil is- Neil was always a puzzle to Andrew. He would be carefully guarded and never particularly seemed interested in showing Andrew how he felt at any given time. But he’d had these _moments_ where Andrew could see the fire beneath his skin, could see something he almost believed was longing as Neil would drink in the sights around him. Neil lived for normality and Andrew only really understood why sitting on the floor in his bathroom one night in early February.

He can’t begin to understand the complexity of Neil’s family situation but he knows two things.

Neil is the only person Andrew’s ever met who might have possibly had a worse life than him.

Neil possesses an inner strength that Andrew’s always believed was insurmountable.

It’s these facts, these truths that Andrew believes with every fibre of his being, that allow him to hug Neil back.

Every person has one moment in their life where the weight on their shoulders suddenly gets to be too much and they collapse.

This one just happens to be Neil’s.

So Andrew holds him and ignores every survival instinct he possesses that’s telling him not to. He holds him because he wants to and because Neil needs him to and Andrew knows he can’t go back from this. He knows something inside him ruptured when he first met Neil; he’s been steadfastly pushing it down ever since. But he can’t pretend it doesn’t exist now. Not when Neil is undoing every carefully constructed knot Andrew tied around his emotions.

Andrew isn’t a comforting presence. Nothing about him puts people at ease. He’s a poison not a cure. But Neil-

He can be that for Neil.

Somehow, inexplicably, their jagged pieces fit together rather than cutting each other like they’re supposed to.

It’s with Neil’s face buried in the crook of his neck and Neil’s tears on his t-shirt that Andrew suddenly becomes aware of their audience.

“Andrew, what-“

Andrew doesn’t give Nicky a chance to finish his question. He steps out of Neil’s grip but keeps a firm hold of his hand as he drags him past his cousin and Aaron, biting out a firm, “ _Don’t_ ,” that’s full of warning when Nicky goes to open his mouth again.

He leads Neil to the downstairs bathroom – Andrew’s bathroom, by all accounts, since his bedroom is the only one on the ground floor – and he’s hit with an overwhelming sense of Deja-vu as he closes and locks the door behind them. He moves to close the lid of the toilet seat and pushes on Neil’s shoulders far too gently to make him sit down before kneeling in front of him.

He takes in Neil’s face, skin half a shade darker from the sun and the grime on his cheeks and forehead, his tear tracks standing stark in comparison. His eyes are bloodshot and heavy, surrounded by deep purple marks that Andrew almost thinks are bruises before he realises Neil likely hasn’t slept in days. The most concerning part though is how lifeless he looks.

Neil’s breath still hitches every so often like he’s holding back a sob but he looks defeated. Like he doesn’t know how to hold himself up anymore. Like it’s taking all his energy just to keep breathing right now.

Andrew inhales a measured breath and meets Neil’s gaze. “Do you need to go to a doctor?”

The memories of Neil’s scars – the proof of the abuse he’s suffered – is still branded into Andrew’s mind and if the “he” Neil had been referring to earlier really had been his father then there’s no telling how badly he could be hurt right now.

After what feels like too long, Neil shakes his head. “No,” he says roughly. “’m just a bit bruised.”

A bit bruised. A bit broken. A bit too much for Andrew.

Andrew nods shortly and then moves away from him, putting the plug in the bath and turning on the faucet. He turns back to Neil as the tub starts to fill and watches the way he stares at the running water. He’s not used to Neil being this quiet – being this listless – it sets him on edge.

Andrew turns off the water ten minutes later when the tub is full and waits for Neil to decide what he wants to do. It takes a second but Neil starts feebly tugging at his shirt to take it off. It’s only when he hisses in pain that Andrew moves to help him. He gets Neil undressed and decidedly doesn’t look as Neil steps out of his boxers and climbs into the tub.

The water is probably too warm, especially considering the weather, but Neil doesn’t even seem to notice it, sinking into the bath with an audible sigh.

Andrew watches the way his face slackens somewhat as he closes his eyes and hesitates a moment before asking, “Do you want me to go?”

Neil opens his eyes and they look clear – or, clearer than they had before. He shakes his head then and the faint tremble of his bottom lip is ultimately what keeps Andrew where he is. Instead he kneels next to the bath, reaching for the washcloth on the sink and dipping it into the water. Then, with a gentleness he himself hadn’t even been sure he was capable of, he begins running the cloth over Neil’s skin.

Washing away the dirt, the sweat, the pain, the trauma.

There’s something calming in the methodical nature of it. Wash Neil’s face first, then his shoulders, then his chest, his right arm, then his left, his bruised knees, his shins, his feet. He runs through the catalogue of Neil’s old scars he has in his mind and inspects him for new ones. There’s none, really, but Neil’s entire left side is covered in purple mottled bruises and there’s scrapes on his arms and knees.

He looks like the runaway he is.

Andrew washes his hair next when Neil gives no response other than leaning into his touch. He massages shampoo through the greasy roots and uses the showerhead to wash it out and he thinks idly about the last time he ran his hands through Neil’s hair.

Neil has no reason to stay in the bath once he’s clean but he doesn’t move right away and Andrew doesn’t try to make him, just sits on the floor next to the bath, leaning his chin on his folded arm on the side of the tub.

They don’t speak. Neil doesn’t offer any explanations and Andrew doesn’t ask.

They’ve always been good at sharing the solitude.

*

Andrew is lying on his side, back to the wall as it so often is, but this time there’s someone lying on the other side of the bed.

Neil is clean and dry now, in a pair of Andrew’s sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt that he hides his hands in. The room is dark but they’ve been staring at each other long enough now that their eyes have adjusted.

Being entirely honest, Andrew doesn’t know what to do right now. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know why the prospect of Neil sharing a bed with him is less terrifying than letting Neil out of his sight.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier,” Neil murmurs after a moment and Andrew’s eyes sharpen. “When I hugged you,” Neil clarifies. “I never asked if it was okay.”

And there it is.

That’s why.

From the very first time, even from when they were strangers, Neil has always respected his boundaries in a way Andrew is so entirely unaccustomed to. It both made Neil too trustworthy and made Andrew want to not trust him at all.

“It’s alright,” he replies after a moment.

Neil lifts the shoulder he isn’t lying on and mumbles, “Still should’ve asked.”

Andrew doesn’t bother disagreeing with him but he also doesn’t know how to explain the way Neil’s touch has almost always felt welcome and never been anything he’s wanted to shy away from.

A few measured breaths pass between them and then Neil says, “I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

Andrew shakes his head too quickly and hopes the darkness conceals the movement. “Stay,” he says then, reaching out with a tentative hand to curl his fingers around Neil’s wrist where his arm lays limp between them.

“I wanted to,” Neil whispers, making Andrew’s world tilt on its axis a little.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he confesses. “My mom slipped me sleeping pills and got our neighbour to carry me out to the car. She told him I did it myself because I get really bad travel sickness so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

“We were already on the interstate when I woke up.”

Andrew swallows around the lump in his throat, fingers tightening imperceptibly around Neil’s wrist. He’d guessed as much that Neil’s decision to leave hadn’t exactly been voluntary. It doesn’t make the anger in his veins settle anymore though.

Slowly, Neil slips into the story, telling Andrew about how he and his mother went to Seattle, how his father caught up with them, how they made it all the way to California before Neil realised there was something seriously wrong, how he burned the car around her and buried her bones on the beach.

Andrew’s always hated California.

“I memorised your address before I got rid of my phone,” Neil says hoarsely, voice cracked and raw. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Andrew is silent for a moment before he tugs on Neil’s wrist, pulling his hand closer and kissing his scraped knuckles with a faint brush of lips. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Neil seems to understand because he twists his hand out of Andrew’s grip and laces their fingers together before finally letting his eyes close.

Andrew doesn’t sleep for hours and it has everything and nothing to do with the person lying next to him.

*

Andrew wakes up in the morning and the space beside him is empty. For a moment, he’s gripped with an icy fear that Neil has vanished again, that last night was nothing more than a fever dream. But then he lets his ears adjust and he can make out the faint sound of Nicky clattering around in the kitchen, yammering on far too enthusiastically to someone that Andrew is pretty sure isn’t Aaron.

He pushes himself out of bed far more quickly than he normally would, padding out of his room and meandering down the hall until he pauses by the doorway to the kitchen.

“How do you like your pancakes?” Nicky is asking. “Aaron usually has maple syrup with his but Andrew always has Nutella and whipped cream. He likes to treat them more like a dessert than a breakfast.”

“Um-“ comes Neil’s uncertain voice and Andrew decides to step into the room to save him.

“He’ll have toast,” he says, giving Nicky a warning look as he comes to stand beside Neil at the kitchen island. He touches a hand to the small of Neil’s back out of Nicky’s view and feels some of the tension drain out of Neil.

Nicky eyes him before letting out a scoff. “It’s rude to decide what your guests eat without consulting them.”

“He prefers toast,” Andrew replies, nonplussed, moving away from Neil to start up the coffee machine.

“I do,” Neil confirms a moment later and Andrew can’t help feeling smug.

“Fine,” Nicky sighs dramatically. “Toast it is.”

Nicky disappears for a shower after he’s deposited a plate with two slices of toast in front of Neil. Andrew watches him leave and then climbs onto the stool beside Neil’s. “Are you going to stay?” he asks after a beat of silence, staring down at his coffee and refusing to check Neil’s expression.

Neil doesn’t answer right away and he’s sounds unsure when he does. “I don’t know. I’m still hiding from my dad. It’s probably not a good idea for me to double back to where I was before.”

Andrew looks up then. “Is it a better idea for you to be on your own with no one watching your back?”

Neil looks down, fleetingly meeting Andrew’s gaze again a moment later. “I need to disappear,” he whispers. “I’d be putting you in danger if I stay.”

“I can take care of myself,” Andrew dismisses. “What are you going to do if you don’t stay?”

“Get in touch with my uncle,” Neil replies. “He has contacts, he can-“

“So, keep running?” Andrew interrupts.

“It’s-what choice do I have?” Neil asks desperately. “He’s not just abusive, Andrew. He’s one of the most lethal mob bosses in the country. If he finds me, he’ll kill me. And everyone I care about too.”

The mob boss detail doesn’t shock Andrew; Neil had more or less let it slip last night as he stumbled through his explanation. The last sentence is what gives him a pause more than anything else.

“Stay until you figure it out,” Andrew requests. “Trust me to protect you.”

“You’re one person,” Neil says, hopelessness tingeing his voice and making his shoulders hunch. “He’s got a whole army behind him.”

Andrew sets his shoulders before reaching up and cupping Neil’s face between his palms, meeting his eyes dead on. “I won’t let him touch you.”

Neil takes a breath and gives Andrew a look as if he’s something like salvation before uttering a thick, “Okay.”

The moment is too heavy and they’re forced to break out of it too soon when Andrew hears Aaron’s footsteps approaching. He releases his grip on Neil and returns to his coffee just as Aaron steps through the threshold.

Andrew can feel him looking between them but he doesn’t comment. At least not until Neil mutters something about getting dressed and slips out of the room. It’s then that Aaron rounds on him.

“Is he staying now?”

“For a while,” Andrew replies, biting back the, _not that it’s any of your business,_ that’s on the tip of his tongue.

Aaron scoffs and doesn’t say anything else but that noise alone sends a spark of irritation through Andrew’s veins.

“I don’t get your obsession with him,” Aaron says a second later, turning a scrutinising eye on Andrew.

“It doesn’t concern you,” Andrew answers calmly, standing up from the stool to put his empty mug in the sink. He feels it as Aaron’s eyes track the movement.

“Yeah well, don’t come crying to me when he disappears into thin air again.”

It makes Andrew pause for half a breath. He’s never come out to Aaron; he’s never divulged about his relationship with Neil before. But then. Aaron’s always been here, always a silent observer in the background. Andrew was stupid to believe silent could mean oblivious.

Aaron was there every time they climbed up onto the roof and didn’t come down for hours. Aaron was there when Neil watched their exy practices. Aaron was there when Neil showed up on their fire escape one night and Andrew had been _this close_ to holding his hand as he’d taken him from the room. Aaron had been there when Andrew had retreated into himself in the days after Neil left.

Aaron was there last night.

Andrew meets his gaze, struggles for a moment to remember the last time he looked his brother in the eye, and says, “I won’t.”

Aaron nods curtly and Andrew leaves the room.

It’s something like an understanding.

*

Nicky accepts Neil’s stay just as openly as Andrew had expected him to and Neil seems entirely baffled as to how Nicky has any kind of relation to Andrew and Aaron and their stoic cynicism. The next few days are relatively peaceful but Andrew can tell Neil is still on edge, ready to run at a second’s notice.

“You said your uncle has contacts,” Andrew says a few nights after Neil’s arrival, lying on the carpet in his bedroom with the window cracked open to dissipate the cigarette smoke.

Neil rolls his head to look at him from where he’s lying beside him. And if Andrew closes his eyes they could almost be back on his roof.

“Yeah, he does. Why?”

“Does he have contacts that could help you start your life over here?”

Neil visibly pauses, looking for all the world like he’d never even considered that before. He probably hasn’t. He’s a runner through and through.

“I could ask?” he says eventually, expression some mixture between uncertain and hopeful.

Andrew nods and they don’t bring it up again for the rest of the night.

Two days later there’s a distinguished looking British man sitting at their kitchen island and Andrew feels like Neil’s bodyguard standing at his shoulders.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Nathaniel?” Neil’s uncle – Stuart, apparently – asks. “You’d be safer with me.”

“ _It’s Neil_ ,” Neil grinds out. “I’m sick of running and I’m safe enough while he’s in jail.”

Stuart had brought that news with him. That Nathan Wesninski was apparently currently serving time for some minor assault charges.

Stuart eyes him, gaze flickering to Andrew for a moment and back again. “There’s one option…”

“What?” Neil asks impatiently.

“You could bring him down,” Stuart says. “We’ve been working with the FBI, trying to set him up and put him away once and for all. You could be king pin here; if you give them the information then they’ll make you part of the deal too. It’s as much safety as I can promise you.”

Neil takes a stuttering breath and Andrew half expects him to spiral into a panic attack. But then he glances back at Stuart with barely concealed hope in his expression. “You think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s your best bet right now.”

*

It takes a long time – the rest of the summer, really – but Neil cooperates with the FBI under the watchful eye of his uncle. He’s advised to join the witness protection programme more than once – he demands to be emancipated instead. He’s given official IDs and documentation with Neil Josten’s details and he has an FBI agent trailing him most of the time while they work on building the case but it seems to relax Neil more than it bothers him.

His father’s still in jail though they haven’t brought him up for all his charges yet, not quick to act until the case is airtight.

But come September Neil almost seems to have the light back in his eyes again.

Nicky is the one who tentatively passes Neil the forms to re-enrol for his junior year at dinner one night.

And when they’re behind the bleachers on the first day of school again it almost feels like Neil never left.

“I think I might try out for the exy team this year,” Neil says, grinning when Andrew rolls his eyes.

“Are you that insistent on making sure I get sick of you?” Andrew asks, arching an eyebrow and taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Not sick of me yet though,” Neil points out smugly, using the hand he has braced on the ground to lean into Andrew’s space.

“Don’t push your luck,” Andrew mumbles before drawing Neil into a kiss that vibrates through his veins.

“You’re the one who asked me to stay,” Neil points out when he pulls back.

“And I regret that decision every day,” Andrew sighs, contradicting himself by dragging Neil back into his space.

“Mm,” Neil hums, eyes flickering from Andrew’s eyes to his lips. “Guess I’ll have to make it worth your while.”

“Guess so.” And then they’re kissing again.

And everything’s not perfect yet. Neil isn’t one hundred percent safe. Andrew still has a laundry list of issues he needs to work through. Nothing about them is fixed or entirely unbroken.

But they’re not quite precarious anymore, not quite destined to be doomed.

They’re something solid now, something Andrew never thought he’d have.

They’re something Andrew wants to believe in.

And as Neil leans back on his hands, expression content with his eyes on Andrew, Andrew almost thinks he does.

*

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, angels!!! it felt good to finally get this one out of my system :')
> 
> if you're looking for me, you can find me at [littlespooneven](http://littlespooneven.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and the tumblr post for this fic is [here](http://littlespooneven.tumblr.com/post/172314334872/honey-we-should-run-away) <3


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